The Life of a Godling  Book I
by GBrowland
Summary: Read the tale of son of Apollo, Austin Hart's life, started from the battle at the Williamsburg Bridge in Manhattan. Not OC, but with OC details. Takes place in the Battle of Manhattan. Rated T for cursing.
1. Chapter 1

Austin

Austin Hart's day didn't get any better when the tank showed up. His arrows shattered against the WW2-era Sherman's hull, but it didn't seem to faze it in the slightest.

He cursed. The tank charged forward along the extensive Williamsburg Bridge, unaffected by the traps and arrows sent its way. Several blocks from Austin, the first set of camoflauged (with help from the Hephaestus cabin) bear traps were set off by unsuspecting draecanae. The resulting mess of yellow dust seemed to discourage some of the troops, though they continued to march when a Laistrygonian charged forward, not fazed by the pair of snake women it had stepped on, and grunted a sort of battle cry.

Narrowing his eyes, the red-headed (dominant gene of his mother's) son of Apollo reached for a Sonic Arrow from his quiver, to find himself with only two arrows left. Cursing yet again, he picked a firecracker arrow, as Michael Yew, Apollo's senior counselor, had named it, from his quiver and readied it on his ash bow.

The 'firecracker arrow', in actuality, wasn't much different than let on by its name. It was literally a broad-tipped Celestial Bronze arrow with two miniature firecrackers, stolen from the Hephaestus cabin (with help from the Hermes cabin) before the 4th of July celebration, tied to either side. The firecrackers themselves packed quite a punch, and Yew seemed to be quite content in tossing them underhand towards the incoming legion of monsters, resulting in multi-colored explosions tinged with yellow dust.

Letting loose the arrow from his shortbow (with a bowstring strung from the Golden Wool's sinew, present from his father), he quickly backtracked from the incoming legion. A javelin soared mere feet from where he had been just previously.

He watched the arrow burst into the phalanx formation of the dracanae and, in Layman's terms, light up the place. The firecrackers, charmed by some Hecate kid in the Hermes cabin days before to light in midair, activated. The arrow pinned a dracanae to the Sherman as the snake woman was turned, and the firecrackers rocked the ground at Austin's feet, even from several blocks away. The letters, 'M' and 'O', (originally from "CAMP HALF-BLOOD) burst into the sky in a blue-and-neon green flash, tinged with the yellow powder that now accumulated on the bridge. Several lines of dracanae panicked and fled, only to find themselves cornered; the frenzied troops of Kronos, or the water. They decided on marching, only slightly less sure of themselves.

Austin turned to the praise of his half-sister, Kayla Castenada, and Michael Yew.

"G'job, man!" The short, approximately 4"6, in fact, son of Apollo was covered in yellow powder and seemed to be charred. Austin realized with a surge of guilt that Michael had been within range of the blast.

Seeing Austin's guilty face, Michael's permanent scowl changed into what looked like a smile, if a ferret look-alike can smile. "D'nt worry 'bout it, mate. I'm all good."

Michael's narrowed his eyes at an explosion from somewhere behind Austin.

"Dammit, Percy. I can't be saving your ass ALL the time." Michael grunted and turned to Kayla. "Kayla. I'ma go help Percy and the Hermes cabin. You guys set some traps." He pointed behind his shoulder to a make-shift bunker the Apollo cabin had made. "All the traps, arrows, spare strings you could need. And right now, we need all we can get here. I'll try to get some Hephaestus kids down here for that Sherman, but I trust you kids'll wear it down enough." He grinned toothily, and tossed two thin blue-shafted arrows to Austin. "Sonic arrows. My last two. I trust you'll put 'em to good use?"

Before Austin could reply, Michael looked over his soldier to East River, where bubbles were coming to the surface rapidly, almost as if hundreds of boats had been sunk.

"Aight, gotta go! Don't miss me too much!" He roared, before racing over to the Holland Tunnel, no doubt to get some Hephies, as Michael called them.

Kayla looked at Austin, who nodded. Dashing to the bunker, they picked up small magical caltrops, smoke bombs, tear gas, whatever they could fit with them. Austin picked up a dozen arrows to accompany his remaining three, and turned to the task at hand.

"Move your lazy asses!" Austin rallied his cabin mates, and leaped onto a suspension bean of the Williamsburg Bridge. The slim boy raced along and tossed the charmed caltrops onto the bridge and watched as they enlargended to nearly eight times their original size, nearly covering a third of the bridge.

Kneeling on the beam, he readied a regular arrow. As it soared from the expert hands of Austin, it impaled two dracanae onto the Sherman, which had started to aim its massive barrel towards Austin.

Good luck hitting me from up here, Austin thought with a laugh. He nocked another arrow, which flew through the air and struck a Laistrygonian in the head, making it vanish in a cloud of yellow dust.

The Sherman fired before Austin could ready himself to dodge. He felt the massive missile soar by his head and into the support beam nearest Austin. The sudden gust of air disoriented Austin, and he stumbled.

Losing his balance, Austin grasped the iron I-beam to the left of him. Before he could sling his bow over his soldier, an expertly-thrown javelin hooked the bow and flew into the River.

Cursing profusely at the gathering legion of enemy soldiers, he grasped tightly the beam and made his way down towards the bridge, thanking his ability to climb monkey bars the whole way.

As he made it, he dusted himself off. He turned to the incoming legion of enemies to find a familiar face- the same face that had paralyzed Austin, making him watch as his mother was killed before his eyes.

The Minotaur. 


	2. Chapter 2

AN: The character Austin WASN'T, despite what you may think, an OC. Austin is mentioned by Michael Yew in the Battle of Manhattan, and he is described solely as "the guy who set traps". I, however, think that all characters should be given a chance. So, here ya go. Also, I completely made up any character details about Austin and Kayla (who was also in TLO), as well as their last names. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Austin flashed back to six years ago: Age 9.  
>~ Niceville High School, Niceville, FL 8:08 A.M. March 22nd, 2002<p>

It was a sunny day in Niceville. Cynthia Hart, mother of Austin Hart, pulled into their new property what seemed to be a sunny and upbeat town. The sun, the endless bodies of water, and the wildlife confirmed this.

Cynthia thought this would be a safe haven for her little Austin. Zeus knows he needed one.

Austin simply couldn't get a break. At age 7, Austin was pummeled by a group of cyclopse. Cynthia found him on the street corner, bloddied and broken. Apollo appeared to the pair, devestated but trying to sound upbeat. He cured Austin with a touch, and with a sad farewell to Cynthia, he renounced his place as guardian. Austin was no longer within the age range to be protected by his father.

Needless to say, Austin and his mother took residence in Albany, New York, Austin now 8. Walking through Times Square with his stepfather, they took a wrong turn and were mugged. His stepfather, trying to be the hero as always, put up a fight to protect Austin, but failed, costing him his life. How Austin survived, to this day, is still an unsolved mystery, though Austin sometimes muttered in his sleep about such things as "a golden flash" amidst the encounter.

Cynthia shook her young son awake. Austin stirred and sat up slowly, eyes still half-lidded.

"We there yet?", he asked with a lazy smirk.

Cynthia nodded, and couldn't suppress a smile; not only at Austin's antics, but for something larger than that.

They were finally here! They could finally catch a lucky break!

Austin appeared wide awake now. "Seriously? Sweet! I'll get my bags!"

He reached into the back seat and pulled a small bag of luggage, probably enough to hold some toiletries, his first-aid kit (he lugged it everywhere, but despite his father, he simply hadn't any skill for medicine), and a sleeping roll. After that, he took a quiver of arrows, and a small recurve bow, crafted of ash, accompanied by his animal snares and a set of three bowstrings. His stepfather always laughed that all he needed was a Robin Hood hat.

If only his stepfather had known of the dangers of trying to protect a demigod.

Kicking open the door, he rushed out, carrying his luggage and his bow.

"Now, now!" Cynthia yelled, though with a laugh. "People'll think we're robbing a bank?"

"With a bow, ma?", came the reply. "Na' gonna happen!" Like his father's sense of humor.

Immediately Cynthia's face darkened at the thought of Austin's Olympian father. She realized with a jolt that he'd have to find out soon. She'd have to tell him of his life as a demigod.

Breathing shakily, she shook her head. 'I'll tell him when the time is right,' the middle-aged woman thought. 'He still has his whole childhood ahead of him.'

The next few weeks went beautifully. Austin was enrolled in elementary school, much to his disappointment, he replaced his arrows with some gorgeously crafted black shafts, Apollo might've even visited once or twice. Cynthia truly believed they'd caught a break.

Until Winter break.

Austin had come to adore school, with his pocket of friends, his archery, and his gym class. He'd grown popular, but not enough to forget his values and his friends. Cytnhia couldn't have been more proud.

Summer faded into Fall, Fall phased into Winter, and Winter break came. The air got chilly, as expected of north-western Florida life. Austin didn't seem to mind.

Cynthia drank her coffee in abandonement, reclining in her office chair. She boredly scrolled the mouse to her IM port, and spat out her coffee at what she saw.

A message from Camp Half-blood awaited her response.

Watching numbly, she clicked on the message, and found the following typed out.

'Hello, Cynthia Hart,' the message read. 'We await your son, Austin's arrival at Camp withing the next month. If not retrieved within the time period of three weeks, we will dispatch a satyr to bring him to camp at the expense of valuable training time.

'Chiron'.

Cynthia sat in her chair, shocked to the heart. Camp was sending for her Austin, for her little boy! She couldn't do that to him. He didn't even know of his blood.

Closing her eyes and lacing her fingers, she thought of some possibilites. She could always take Austin to Alaska, beyond the reach of the gods. Perfect hunting space...

Cynthia abruptly opened her eyes and cursed herself for allowing such thoughts in her usually collected mind. Then again, it's not like she got a message from a half-man, half-horse saying that they were to kidnap her only child and bring him to a strange camp in the middle of nowhere every day.

"I'll tell him today." She thought aloud, and was almost surprised in the finality in her voice. "He...he has to know." She then walked stiffly to her bed and lie for some well-needed rest.

Austin boarded his bike and waved his curly-haired friend, Annette, goodbye, not knowing that it might be his last with her. He took off towards home, humming a tune along the way. If he had left for home sooner, he might've heard the cries of despair, of pain, and of protest that rose from the very cul de sac that Austin himself resided in.

In the Hart household, just woken from her nap, Cynthia readied some pasta for dinner. As she taste-tested a noodle, a crash shifted some of her furniture.

Bracing herself on the counter, Cynthia turned numbly, not expecting to see a Minotaur's head peeking through the patio door, its beady black eyes focused on her.

Austin arrived home within several minutes. He had always been known for his impeccable speed and agility.

Picking up his finely crafted bow from the shed, he got ready for some target practice.

Rounding the house, he expected anything, ANYTHING in the world moreso than he found; the Minotaur kicking at what Austin presumed was his mother's body, a permanent look of shock on her pale face.

Trembling, he did something he'd NEVER admit to doing:

He dropped his bow.

The crack of sturdy wood on stone caught the attention of the Minotaur, and said cow-monster turned quickly and narrowed its eyes at the offending object's owner.

Austin did something else: he squeaked.

The Minotaur shot forward in a blast of movement, and Austin had hardly enough time to grab his bow and hurtle to the side.

Austin, in the face of impossible, dangerous situations, did what would make any parent proud.

He nocked an arrow onto his bow, and, still clammy with sweat, fired.

His shock and despair made the shot go wide, but it still impaled itself in the enormous beast's leg. With a bellow, it ripped the protruding shaft from its flesh and snapped it in half.

More determined now, Austin nocked two arrows onto the bow; a manuever he rarely performed. He found that it rarely worked, but he was desperate.

'You killed my mom! I'll kill you!' was Austin's thought as he furiously fired the arrows towards the charging beast.

It stopped in confusion, looking down to find two arrows lodged deep into its chest.

"Moo?", came from the Minotaur's mouth as it retreated, breaking down the fence outlying the Hart household, hopefully to go die somewhere besides the Hart's finely pruned yard.

Austin ran to inspect his mother, watching as blood dropped from her chest at an even rate.

Austin, tears running down his face, bundled his mother into his arms and cried. He cried for all he was worth, and given his history, that was plenty.

After he was done, he felt only anger, though he was surprised to find a small note descend from his mother's pocket.

With numb fingers, he opened the note.

'Camp Half-Blood?' he memorized the address and slipped it into his pocket.

Grabbing his spare archery equipment, luggage, a few changes of clothes, and a week's supply of food, he left his house. He left his house, to fulfill his dead mother's dying wish; that he find his destination safely. 


End file.
